Follow The Light (series)
by Sarah the Welsh One
Summary: Post-Gift, Dawn and Xander go into the night, but neither return as they left.


'Follow The Light'  
  
For Jane  
  
(1) - Out There  
  
"Xander and Anya," I decide. "It must be your turn by now."  
  
Xander looks dejected and Anya instantly opens her mouth to complain. "But I have a headache. And I have to work tomorrow. For you. And you hardly ever remember to pay me or go in. Just because you're an alco-"  
  
Xander gives her a sharp elbow in the side, but it's no use. She and I and everyone else in the room know exactly what she was going to say. `Just because you're an alcoholic.` I suppose I am. Everyone said I had my father's eyes.  
  
"...and it's dark out there," Anya finishes, looking sulky. "Why can't Xander go out there on his own? It's cold and really dark and I want to go to sleep."  
  
"We must be fair, Anya," I reply. "Willow and Tara have already been three times this week."  
  
"What about Spike? Where's he when you need him? How come Dawn never has to go?" Anya whines on.  
  
"Spike," I say haltingly, reluctant to broach the subject, "has decided that his talents would be better suited to sitting in his crypt and getting drunk. And I must say, I don't blame him. Dawn is too young to go out in the dark. Now --"  
  
"No, I'm not." Heads turn and eyes widen as Dawn stands in the doorway. "I'm not too young to go," she repeats firmly. "Anya can stay here and I'll go with Xander."  
  
"I really don't think --"  
  
"She was my sister," she says quietly. "Xander and I will go. Anya can stay behind and sleep off her headache."  
  
That seems to be decided, then. Xander stands up wearily and pulls on his jacket, picking up the flashlight and a stake. Dawn takes another stake herself and slips into her own jacket. She seems afraid for a second, and Xander notices it too. "It's all right," he tells her, and I feel slightly awkward, as though I've walked in on a rather intimate moment. "Just follow the light, and don't be afraid of the dark."  
  
Then they head out there, and the darkness swallows them up.  
  
(2) - Don't Be  
  
For Ray  
  
"Nobody really knows  
  
Where they're supposed to go." - Travis  
  
"Where are you? I can't see you. Are you still there?" she asks tremulously. Am I really the type  
  
of guy who'd up and leave a girl in the dark? Well, maybe Cordelia, but she was... you know. Different.  
  
"I'm here."  
  
"Where?"  
  
"Here." A white hand gropes about in the dark. Flesh meets and fingers entwine. There's nothin' weird about it. I'm a kid and I'm scared. She's centuries old. All knowing. She'll look after me.  
  
"Where's the light?"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Giles said follow the light. What happened?"  
  
"Oh." I click the flashlight on and off again. Nothing. "The batteries died."  
  
"Oh...Xander...why do we keep coming out here?"  
  
I sigh and pull her along, trying to feel my way in the black. Really dark tonight, darker than usual for Sunnydale. I'm not really scared of vamps as such. I've never actually heard of one that would be smart enough to get around in this. It's more like... what else could be out there. Ghosts or some such. I know it's stupid. `Nothing to fear but fear itself,` and all that, but fear is pretty scary. I think that's irony. I'm not sure.  
  
"I don't know. Go whine at Giles. He's the one who said we have to keep up with the Slayer duties. Just because he gets mopey when he's not a Watcher any more," I mutter. "Just because he wouldn't go for my plan to sneak Faith outta prison. It would've worked, too. Foolproof. Even Anya thought so. But nooo... we have to play Slayer, instead of getting a real one to do the job. You know what we are? We're like plumbers with fake qualifications. And I should know - but that was a long time ago, and that woman thought I did a really good job on her sink - Dawn?"  
  
"I'm here," she says softly. "Would the prison guards really be lured away by bourbon?"  
  
"Dawn, there is nothing that won't be lured by bourbon." Not that I speak from experience. But if a Watcher is, then I figure pretty much anyone is susceptible. Yeah, Giles is the `funny drunk` a lot more often these days. Even though it wasn't so funny, not after the first time. And definitely not this time. He could've changed the batteries in the flashlight at least. "Except Slayers and such. Wills of iron and all that... does it bother you?"  
  
She stops for a second and jerks back on my hand. "Does what?"  
  
"You know, me talking about Slayers and the whole-"  
  
"I never think of her that way," she says simply, and we keep walking. "Xander... is this fog or what?"  
  
"No idea, but I could've sure used some of this doo-wicky when I had my yearbook photo  
  
done."  
  
"What's wrong with the photo?"  
  
"You've never seen my yearbook, have you?" I hear her smile (oh yeah and how does a smile sound) in the dark and it cheers me up, that I could make her do that. But then I hear something else (oh god something else) in the dark, and I don't like the sound of it so much, and before I know it Dawn screams and lets go of my hand.  
  
"DAWN!"  
  
"It's okay! I'm okay! I'm okay," she repeats, grabbing my hand. "I tripped on something, and I thought someone was grabbing me -- I'm sorry. I'm sorry- -"  
  
"It's okay. So long as you're okay," I add, clutching her hand tightly. "Are you?"  
  
"Yes." We walk for a little while longer, and she adds, "but I'm scared."  
  
"Nothing to fear but fear itself," I boom, and then there's a red light in the distance, a dot dancing around in the void, and for a second I think that we really do have something to fear.  
  
Red firefairies (this gun's for hire, even if we're just dancin' in the dark, can't start a fire without a spark), Bruce Springsteen, something there.  
  
"Bloody wanker," a familiar voice mutters. "How you ever gon' get to London without a bleeding torch?"  
  
"Spike," Dawn breathes, and that's who it is, of course. Then the cold flesh vanishes, and red light fades away, the voices cut out and I'm alone.  
  
In the dark. 


End file.
